


Austin, Atlantis

by RoseintheWind



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Basically anxiety, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Feelings of drowning/choking, Gen, Loneliness, Lots of pondering, Overuse of saying Texas isn't Austin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseintheWind/pseuds/RoseintheWind
Summary: You remember reading about a lost city underwater once.When there's no one around how do you keep your mind where it is? What stops you from realizing the countless amounts of people under you, thousands of feet deep in the ocean? What stops you from realizing your purpose, or lack thereof? What stops youfrom taking a step,or a breath,and let it be your lastas you fall?Wait.You don't fall from an endless expanse of the ocean.You sink, and the water covers you.You don't fall,you drown.
Kudos: 7





	Austin, Atlantis

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I've returned with this small ficlet. This dumb thing took me so long to write, like it's 3k words and it took me months. This was supposed to be like my coming back into it type thing (which I suppose is still serving its purpose) but god damn. Having no motivation is a bitch. Anyway, I hope everyone still enjoys it.  
> Follow me on Tumblr @rosiey9 for posts about random shit :)))

_Austin, Texas. Described for its weirdness and culture. It sits in its heart as capital, ever-growing. Nothing could ever compare! Nothing will stand at the top of expansion and prosperity while there's so much to do around! Nothing could ever happen to beautiful Austin._

_The hidden city of Atlantis. Historically mentioned in tune with ancient Greece, it is a sunken city thought to be completely fictitious. Despite this, it is said that the people live harmoniously with advanced technology and a better-lived life. But at the cost of the world drowning, would you take that offer if presented?_

It's there. You're there. A neverending stretch that you will never get across and a place you can never escape. You say you love it to the others, that it's a great place to lament in your loneliness (not phrased like that of course) and have somewhere to think by yourself. But you hate that you say that. 

Perhaps in a 21st century busy Texas you would either accustom yourself to the noise or grow tired of it, but in the grand scheme of things, you're sure you wouldn't mind it. Maybe you're just saying that because of your current situation. 

Maybe you're not.

You've run out projects to distract yourself with, finding yourself looking at said projects while your hands buzz around, but never touching them. It's not until the Auto-Responder asks what the hell is wrong with you before you realize what you've been doing. You wave it off.

You've run out of long showers to take, your pruney, disheveled skin sitting on your body as a reminder. You just took one. What good would it do to use a wet towel anyway?

You drop into your chair to check on your computer. Jake and Roxy's handles have been set to busy. Jake did mention he was going out adventuring today a day ago. Your heart seizes quickly before releasing, still worried about Jake despite all the preventative measures you've put in place for his safety. Or as much as you can while miles and centuries away from him. 

_Centuries._

You can already guess what Roxy's up to. Jane is simply offline.

And now you're left to yourself. 

You push the window open, revealing the sun lowering into the infinite sea accompanying it. You wonder how easy it would be to look at the ocean and find your thoughts have taken over. _It's a very tempting offer..._

Hold on. You're not completely out of your own head yet. There's luckily still _something_ you can do. 

You dig out some lightly dusted scuba gear, used for cases such as this. It's been a few months but after checking a couple of functions it still works perfectly fine as you expected. 

You strap it on, change into clothes that will dry easily, and take off your shades. You step outside. The seagulls still chirp weakly as they fly around. They've taken a liking to your apartment (of course they have it's the only structure for miles) and you feed them every so often so they don't completely die out. 

The water ripples back at you. Small waves flush against the high support beams. The water is still not intimidating, seldom ever is. You're still afraid. 

Afraid of what lives are preserved in a coat of water, what isn't and what won't be. 

You don't do this very often. 

And for good reason. 

You try not to think about it. You turn around so your back is facing the water and take a breath through the mask. _In. Out._

And you fall. 

The falling sensation pricks your stomach as soon as you step back. Your brain calculates its death. 

Your eyes grow watery. 

Your stomach flops down in unease.

Your limbs grow numb.

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment at the dumb plunge.

"But guess what?" You tell yourself.

There's no one around to care.

It lasts an anticlimactic few seconds before you hit the water. Everything in your body is again on high alert. It doesn't last long but at least you can feel. You can feel the exhilaration and what it feels like to be something unbound by emotion. In those few seconds, you aren't Dirk Strider, abandoned, and lonely. 

You're no one. Another corpse at the bottom of the ocean. A human being. Someone who feels and understands like any other. Someone who gets washed away like everyone else, _just like everyone else_.

Your eyes sharpen instantly and you dive further down. There, it gets darker. The fish population swims in smaller numbers. There are no predators that you can see. Decaying plants crumble away at the touch of an uneven jet of water. But that's not what you're here for. 

Broken skeletons lay waste everywhere. The lives, _the lives that people lived_ stay down here for the rest of eternity. Cars, misshapen, and torn apart clunk at the bottom. You grab a few parts for your tinkering later.

Half buildings stand tall as if they think they'll get another shot at usage. Some windows are still intact and you can see through that some items have miraculously survived. Money and coins float around from the 21st century. With how terrible you've read capitalism to be in America at that point you find it ironic how useless it is to you now.

Furniture made seemingly out of cotton and linen float around storeys like being trapped in zero gravity chambers. An object of trees that you'd never guess would take the name because of their shape also decay into the void. You know that trees were rare where you lived because of the buildings. Now they just don't exist at all.

There is simply almost nothing down here. It's almost all gone, taken by time and the aqua. But that doesn't deter you. Your hope isn't completely diminished. 

You found out about a man named Strider and a woman named Lalonde and the world they tried to save once, the tribulations that they tried to cease while down here. 

Their attempts were obviously unsuccessful. 

If you had any fantasy of being a superhero while you were young you're glad it was crushed early. There are no heroes down here. People who tried to save the Earth maybe. People who believed in another life, or another chance, likely. People who would realize the fruit of their attempts, impossible. 

People who you still look up to even though you tried to crush your hero fantasy, conceivably two. People that specifically know of the life that you live up above the water in the 23rd century, lonely and uncertain, and what it's like. One.

People who know of the future, _your_ future into an escape because you can't stay here, _you can't, you can't live long enough to know there is no light at the end of the tunnel, no chance of seeing the people you care about._

How many people know of that exactly?

Precisely. 

Zero.

And it seems it will always be that way.

You try to will the thought out of your head as you look more around at your surroundings. A library sits nearby, books tattered and shelves collapsed and rotten. Crinkled pages lay waste, floating further and further down. What was written on them, you'll never know. _Wouldn't it have been nice to know?_

You feel something heavy at the bottom of your gut. There, not too far away you found it that first time you went diving. A circle of almost emptiness, unbelievable as it seemed the first time you looked at it. It _must_ have been intentional, you had concluded. There is proof of civilization everywhere. There shouldn't be anywhere that's empty, or that's what you deducted from looking at other cities online. You're not sure what it once was. There's chunk-like grass floating everywhere and bare logs of the once-trees. You'd like to think it was once a lush park, full of people. Children who ran after others in squealing glee. Adults who would sit on benches, or walk their dogs or even get married. Right in that very park. 

But why? Is the question you've constantly asked yourself. Why is there a crater in the middle of it? There's nothing resembling something you'd see at a park there unless it had all faded away. 

And yet, the safe had stayed intact. 

The safe was your gateway to (many) years in the past. You remember exactly how you felt that day. 

Nervous (your first time diving), 

stunned (there was something intact at the bottom of the ocean floor), 

in pain (carrying the safe wasn't easy, just as you expected it not to be),

and finally what you're feeling now. 

Like throwing up, crying and heaviness. 

What you had found inside the safe. 

Firstly, there was a copy of _Complacency of the Learned_ , which you learned Roxy's mother had published. You've read it many times not only through the words but between the lines to understand what happened to Earth. Secondly, there were a couple of objects you now have scattered around your room. Nothing too important but all having a label titled "daves museum stuff". A few memorabilia's from Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, the pair of pointed anime-like glasses you still wear today, and the most important thing. The tape. 

Initially, you weren't sure what to do with it. You thought it was an anomaly, amidst the high-end technology you own, you'd never seen anything like it before. But you figured it out, analyzed the grooves, and modified a machine out of something close to what you think had been made for that purpose. But putting it in was a whole different story. 

You step back in reaction to the static, at the myriad of blacks and whites swimming across the screen. You swiftly decide that the fuzzy noise is annoying as fuck and send turning it off to the top of your priority list, right beside trying to put this giant box into the screen. 

When you insert it, it loads up slowly. It's fragile as the reels start to turn and chink up. You almost think that it won't spring and is a complete piece of junk modified by the water beyond repair.

Until.

The buzzy screen disperses and a man with smooth, black round glasses and a pensive face sits in front. His hair is blonde, swept to the side, and has dirt and blood caked all over it. His upper body, the only other part that is visible from the camera is similarly disfigured. 

He's breathing hard, but his face slacks in relief as he notices the camera he's using is rolling. 

"Fuck, finally." He starts. "Hello, hi. It's me Dave-wait no fuck. Okay, forget all of that. _I can edit it out...nevermind._ Hey kid. I know this seems like I've just stomped through hell if hell were the biggest pigpen in the fuckin' petting zoo of Horrorterrors, but I'm glad I'm able to get this message through. Anyway, welcome to 2012. I'm not sure when, if ever, you'll see this- _hopefully it survives, Jesus_ . I'm throwing this weirdass tape into a safe with a bunch of my dope museum stuff. Can't really let her find it, y'know? Right, the Batterwitch. Her disturbing posse of clown figures in power, yeah I put an end to those guys. Hopefully, you won't have to worry about a bigger threat now. Straight up slashed those assholes. Rose took down one of the higher adversaries too. That guy was a fuckin' sadist."

He coughs and looks behind him to the sky. Something red glows off in the distance of the darkness. Something bigger with a black and yellow outline accompanies it. " _Shit._ Looks like I don't have much time left. The Condence, The Batterwitch, whatever the fuck you want to call her, she's coming to destroy Earth. Me and Rose-we're going to try and stop her, but if we can't, I'm relaying this message to you so you'll be able to. She came here a while ago, but she's been fucking up society since. Doing some weird shit with blood color as a way to control us for some sort of hierarchy. Her minions were no better like I said. Got into some pretty high positions of power and abused the shit out of it."

The blob behind him was getting bigger, more shapen. It looked to be like an aura surrounding a fish-like woman. She had a glowing trident swirled with flashing blues and reds. Her sinister smirk was huge and could be noticed from all the way where Dave was recording. He knew he had even less time now. "Welp looks like time's up." He responds in kind. "If you ever need anything look in that book of Rose's. Tons of metatextual stuff in there that you'll enjoy. Speaking of, say hi to Roxy for her, Rose. I know she wants to do it herself but I'm not sure how likely that'll be. On that, let's hope this tape never reaches you in the first place. But if it does, wishing you the best. Good luck Dirk."

The tape ends. 

You're not sure how to feel. 

All of that information, right into one place. Your mind swirls with it, marvels in it amongst your confusion and shock. 

You slow down, assess what you know. You start with the reoccurring theme. 

_The Batterwitch._ The name sits on the tip of your tongue. Someone who must be of high prowess, commanding any army to completely wipe out the entire human population, and judging by her looks, didn't appear human. So along those lines, she could've taken so much more. It was evident that this man, Dave, and his partner Rose had not succeeded in killing her. You didn't know him, and know that you could do nothing for him, but you still feel guilty, a fucked up form of a projecting nostalgia. 

The book strikes your memory next. C _omplacency of the Learned_ , a gigantic novel sits heavy in the safe. You pry it out and absently flip through the pages. They don't stick together in any fashion, and the words don't bleed out of the page. There are notes scribbled into it at certain spots, depicting certain things. They look to be hand-penned. You set it aside and promise yourself you'll analyze it later. 

And finally, you think. The spot that stops everything in time. The place where you know that you might be worth more to this world than to just live and die. 

Someone had known your name. Not only yours but Roxy's too. There was someone _out there_ , despite being dead, who knew of your name, who could vouch for your existence. You didn't create Roxy or hell, even Jane and Jake in some sort of lonely delusion or having been underwater too long and dying. These people, their legacy, was here now. Their heritage wasn't a lie. There was a purpose to being here, a purpose to being the last humans on Earth, even with centuries separating the only other people they know and could influence. There was a reason to be living and keep living on November 11th, 2423.

_Defeat the Batterwitch_.

You recall pestering Roxy after, and her saying something along the lines of "dirky thats awesome!!! i have that book too maybe we could idk look over it together ;))))))" before video chatted her the entire thing over. She was also so shocked she fell out of her chair. It was times like these you found yourself grateful, that even though you've never met Roxy in person she still felt like a physical presence lighting up the room.

For weeks the two of you analyzed _Complacency of the Learned_ together, and piece by piece you found a history of people who were just like you, except in multitudes. Of course, the Batterwitch was covered as a character in mixed metaphors and creatively worded persona descriptions everywhere like a badly decorated cake. 

You probed the tape over and over again, yearning to hear how Dave lived his life years ago and how he addressed you, by name. 

Unfortunately, because of the tape, that meant the obvious. A mission unsuccessful, bodies lay sewn at the bottom of the ocean of oblivion. They had failed. 

You feel it, what you felt then. A feeling of drowning, a feeling of powerlessness. You're choking. 

Fuck, _you're choking, you're choking, you're choking, you're choking-_

You emerge from the surface of the water. The memories of your situation come rushing back. 

_You're currently in Austin, Texas. It's flooded, you're alone. You've only ever talked to one other person in your life. You went deep down into the ocean and got stuck like the ocean was pulling you further and further down while you escape in a delusion. Dave's voice calls to you, coaxes you to stay down there with him. But there is no him, just a muddied corpse. He calls to you, by name. You almost want to listen. You almost want to drown._

You climb out of the water and cough for nothing more than effect. The breath doesn't pour out of your body. You don't know for how long you will be able to stand. So you don't. 

You can vaguely hear the ping of your computer from outside, the sound of probably Roxy pestering you. But you don't get up. Your eyes grow heavy; too much for you to care enough to handle, and they fall shut. The myriad of reds and yellows fall behind your eyelids. 

" _Sorry...Roxy._ " You think groggily, barely a thought process behind your shut brain. 

_Hope you don't mind waiting for tomorrow._

In another tomorrow, across the suns and moons that cycle and the blending of the blue with white haze and black with patterned dots of the sky, the sun rises on a perfectly normal day on a flooded bunker of an apartment in the middle of Austin, Texas. However, a stream of red flows throughout the sky, almost splitting it. It feels like a plague; vile and unknown. 

In the center floats the space queen herself, The Batterwitch in her full glory. She asses your single building on the horizon, critical and almost infuriated that it still stands. 

You eye her as she ascends forward; casual and confident of your decimation. Her present smirk, the same one as the tape showed, widens as she notices you on top of the building. 

This situation is eerily familiar. Dave's words echo in your ears. Your blood rushes. This could, in fact, be it. 

Austin, or Texas specifically. Usually known for its harshly hot weather that sizzles through your skin. So heat-seeking that you could probably fry an egg off the ground. Full to the brim with life, engines that roar and people that speak. 

But as the wind runs once through your hair you and the limitless ocean spans around you can't help but think that this is nowhere near this Texas, and could've been a ploy that this was never Texas in the first place. 

Almost like

Texas was wiped off the map. 

Or at least to you, 

has never been materialized in the first place. 

You remember reading about a lost city underwater once. You didn't love the idea but empathized regardless. You'd consider yourself not a person that indulges in the realm of your own fantasy too often, knowing that there is nothing that can mask the truth of your reality.

And yet, as the Batterwitch proceeds ever closer, and you find yourself not being able to predict the outcome of what will happen within the hour, the mirthless ocean towers above ground to a sunken metropolis. 

You'd like to think of it as a place trapped to a boundless expansive of water, not heat. 

You wish you'd liked the word boundless. You wish you could admire a true Texan sky. This is no longer Texas though, not really. 

It's still Austin. Where you grew up and maybe if what you heard was true that day, won't be your burial shore. But still not Texas. Texas is buried under thousands of feet of water.

This is a place with one livable structure, a ginormous stretch to even consider it a city, let alone a state.

And yet, it's still Austin.

Austin,

Atlantis.


End file.
